Ghosts of the tracks
by iSea
Summary: I think the plot is based off a true story, not sure. My dad helped me write this...sort of, haha.  A regular look on five regular people, all enduring the most regular fright of their lives.


This is based of a story my dad told me when I was quite young, I decided to re-incarnate the tale my own way, with the regulars, because I'm a nerd.

I did not create the plot, but this is the story as I remember it, with some of my father's help. Though, some lines are changed to suit the characters' personalities.

At the far edge of a small town, not far away from where some park groundskeepers worked at, were a lost set of train tracks, cutting through weeds, daggering roots, and paving across rust. Many of the homes there were little more than sheds and shacks, trapped in bankruptcy that shall never ease. Their stories were sad, but quite nonchalant; though they came from shabby people, who would just get shabbier. On one fall dusk, however, a twenty-three year old blue jay known by the name of Mordecai, took himself and four other friends along for the ride, down to the tracks, merely three blocks away.

"Aww, dude, couldn't you have just told us at the coffee shop instead?" complained the little raccoon, Rigby, only about two or three feet tall. There had been a movie playing at the outdoor theater that night and Rigby would have much rather went to that, but Mordecai was in one of his moods, those moods that made him just want to get out and drive, and he couldn't argue with him. He knew he couldn't.

"It wouldn't have been the same," Mordecai explained. "You wouldn't have believed me."

"Like this'll make us think any different," said a voice from the back seat, which belonged to a gumball machine, Benson.

Mordecai ignored his boss' smart remark, and turned on a dark, shadowy street, that crossed two rusty speed bumps. Then turned again, making his way to up coming train tracks…

The cracked road, damp from earlier rain, rose in a small hill to meet the rails, and when the car reached the rusty, worn-out bars, the bird slowed to a halt, right in the middle of the almost-abandoned railroad.

His friends were tempted to speak their protestation, when Mordecai suddenly stepped out of the vehicle, and grazed over to the trunk calmly, but excitedly. He sifted though it to only find a sack of flower.

As his fellow employees gazed with blank, expressions on their faces, Mordecai ripped the sack with little struggle, and began to toss handfuls of the powder on to the car's silver bumper.

When he returned, all four of the passengers wanted the same answers of what curious thing their friend had just done.

"'Tell you later," was all he spoke. "You'll understand then."

And with that, he shifted his body so that he was facing them; Pops, Benson, Skips, and Rigby, who was in the passenger seat.

"Not long ago, there was a family who lived right down here, right at the end of that road," he began, pointing to the end of the trail. "There were six of them, five kids. So one afternoon, the dad gathered them all into the back of his truck to visit a sick relative. They got to the train tracks –where we are – when the car broke down. And regularly, he would get out and fix it, right? Well, there wasn't any time, for he looked to his right, and saw the train thundering towards him and his kids. The wreck was awful; they say people heard the horrid screaming from miles around. But the kids didn't scream at all, they were too scared, and they all died. All five of them."

Pops shivered in discomfort. "That's depressing," he spoke.

"Come on guys, you aren't really buying this right? He's just tryin' to scare us, just like every year." Rigby scoffed, folding his arms.

"No, this is true, listen! There's more." He retorted impatiently. "A few months or so after it happened, a lady was driving to work, when she all of a sudden ran out of gas. Her car died, right on the rail bed. She knew the kids died there, which totally creeped her out, but what probably creeped her out even more was that the train was coming right at her. She was just about to make a run for it, when the car moved; it rolled off the tracks, down the slope, and stopped right at the bottom. Miraculously, she survived, and so did her car. Not a single scratch."

"So the car rolled down the hill, whoop-dee-doo." Benson rolled his eyes in boredom.

"Yeah, but the tracks aren't _on_ a hill," Mordecai countered. "And besides, it wasn't the only time it happened. Someone had a tire blow out too, again, the train was coming, and again, the car rolled! And it happened a bunch more after that, too. Think about it," he continued, his eyes sparkling with wonder, "they were saved by the little ghost children who didn't want anyone else to meet the same fate!"

The yeti cleared his throat in slight disbelief. There was a short silence after that. Mordecai slugged his shoulders, knowing they thought he was crazy. He turned to his best friend, "You believe me, right dude?"

"Uhmm….?" Was all the coon could reply.

The blue jay rolled his eyes and turned his head. He then shivered ferociously, for the car's heater had been broken for months, and winter was less than a few weeks away.

"You don't have to agree with him Rigby, he probably just had one too many at high-five ghost's party this afternoon." Benson stated, arms crossed. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to civilization."

"Me too," said Skips. "Plus, if we don't move this heap, we'll be the next ghosts haunting these tracks. The 8:15 train is probably minutes away."

"Oh, that doesn't sound very comforting, Mordecai, if you don't mind…?" Pops gestured, grasping the bird's shoulder gently.

Everyone argued with Mordecai and his insane gestures, everyone was speaking at once, yelling almost, when suddenly-

They froze.

The train.

Its loud hoarse whistle was surely difficult to miss, and they most certainly knew what it was.

As they turned their heads slowly in harmony, they saw distant headlights, the ones that could only belong to a train.

Rigby turned to his best friend in panic, squeezing his armrests nervously.

"Let's go," he pleaded.

Mordecai looked at him, and smiled slyly.

"C'mon man! It's getting closer!" the raccoon continued.

"No," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "Let's stay. Stay and see what happens."

And with that, he reached forward and switched off the car's ignition.

The boys in the backseat wasted no time to react.

"What the hell are you doing! We're all gonna die!" Benson yelled.

"I fear he's gone mad! We must flee!"

And with the sound of slamming doors, the three in the backseat were gone without a trace.

Only Mordecai and Rigby remained, and as much as the short one wanted to run, Mordecai was his best friend; he couldn't leave him, not like this. The spark of excitement his eyes slightly made Rigby sick to his stomach, he had never seen his friend so enthusiastic about anything else in his entire life. Why was he so certain? He could get competitive at times, yes, but this, this was practically Russian roulette.

They were going to die.

The train was so close at that point only a few yards away, Rigby quickly turned in panic, gazing at his friend. The light of the train's headlights shone half of his grinning face, giving him a maniacal appearance. When he made no actions on driving the car, Rigby reached for the keys timidly.

Mordecai was quicker, as her grabbed the keys and threw them out the open window. It was more than the poor raccoon could stand, he quivered ferociously. He wanted to run. He _needed_ to run, but something stopped him every time he told himself he'd flee in 3…2…1…but he never did.

The following seconds were chaos. The pair stared forward, nothing to say to one another, waiting for the possible last seconds of their lives to end. The blaring whistle and sounds of grinding brakes made Rigby uneasy. Only Mordecai remained still, the same, grinning expression seemed to be glued on to his face as he sat behind the wheel.

"You're homicidal, dude."

Then car shuddered.

Then it rocked.

And eventually, rolled forward, no more than a single second than the train thundered past.

As the car stopped, a very happy Mordecai leaped out, throwing his wings in the air in victory. Rigby quickly ran over to his other friends, shivering like mad; he was okay, though small tears rested in his eyes. He was scared nearly half to death. They approached the triumph bird slowly, relieved, but furious.

"Ahaha! I told you! I told you!" he cheered, pointing his finger at his friends who stared blankly.

Finally, the gumball machine shook his head angrily. "Shut up! You got lucky! Those tracks must be on a hill, it's an illusion! You put Rigby's life in jeopardy, just for your own sick thrills; when there's no such thing as _GHOSTS_!"

"Oh, really?" said the blue jay, his voice like silk. He walked to the back of his car slowly, a smug smile yet on his lips. Eventually, his friends followed. But when they saw what they were looking at, their eyes grew wide, and their jaws dropped.

The proof was plain to see. On the chrome bumper, in the heavy dusting of flour about which they had all forgotten, there they were: give distinct pair of child-sized handprints.


End file.
